


Autographed Copy

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Not Famous, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Bookstores, Fluff, M/M, Not Famous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1481248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris just published his first book, and Darren is an employee at a bookstore that's selling it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autographed Copy

It's probably one of the silliest things that Chris has ever done in his life, and considering he basically jumped from 10-years-old to _60_ , he hasn't had a lot of time in his life for silly. For that reason, it makes Chris uncomfortable enough to feel like he _shouldn't_ be doing what he's doing, but not uncomfortable enough for him to give up on the endeavor completely. Even if he feels like the most ridiculous person on the planet, hiding beneath a hat he never wears and behind a pair of glasses he only needs for reading and writing. All he's missing to complete his _please take no notice of me_ ensemble is a big trench coat.

"Can I help you find anything?" A voice is suddenly asking him, and Chris nearly jumps out of his skin before he remembers that he isn't in some sort of spy movie, and just because he feels like he's wearing a stupid disguise doesn't mean that everyone else has noticed.

Chris realizes he's somehow made it into the cookbook section, probably in his attempts to seem like a casual, perusing customer. He shakes his head.

"N-no, thank you, just looking," he rushes to say, and the person (an employee, if the name tag hanging from a chord around their neck is any indication) just nods and smiles politely.

"If you need anything, I'm Krista," she says, and then walks away. Chris nearly presses a hand to his heart, and then quickly chides himself.

He's being ridiculous. Even the _disguise_ is ridiculous, because having _one book_ published does not make him some sort of recognizable celebrity. Even if it did, most people tend to know authors by their names and the titles of their books rather than their faces. If Chris is being completely honest with himself, trying to obscure his face has more to do with his embarrassment—the last thing he wants is for someone to realize he came to a bookstore just to see his book on a shelf.

He has copies, of course. They're given to him. Ones that he can hold in his hands, years of ideas and months of worked birthed into a bound, tangible book. He'd nearly cried, just holding it, and he's not prepared for how he'll feel to stand in a store and see it on a shelf. Chris isn't sure he's prepared for it, really, but… He can't stop himself from looking. Especially because this isn't some tiny, indie bookstore—it's a big, mainstream, hundreds-of-locations-across-the-United-States bookstore, and it's _selling Chris's book_.

Breathing is suddenly a little harder as he makes his way up the escalator, drumming his fingers nervously. Having his dream realized is a lot scarier than he'd anticipated. Having his book published is one thing—an editor, _his_ editor, had liked it enough to bring it to attention of the publishing company, and that publishing company had put faith in both of them to deliver. It's a lot of faith, and Chris's stomach is swimming with the insecurities that he can't live up to it. What if his book is a total flop? What if people _hate_ it? What if no one but his mom buys a copy?

Chris steps off the escalator and nearly heads right back down and out of the store, terrified that somehow seeing his book on the shelf will confirm all of his worst fears.

But he doesn't, because at the same time… He'll be seeing _his book_ on a shelf, and it's the sort of thing he dreamed about but never thought would actually happen.

The children's department is colorful, full of toys and shelves that he can easily see over, designed for people half his height to reach the tops of easily. Even the chairs scattered around are smaller, a few filled with little bodies holding huge picture books. One girl, in particular, looks a little older and is reading a chapter book, eyebrows furrowed together and mouth moving silently as she tries to figure out a word.

Chris likes kids. He's not _amazing_ with them, and sometimes he feels a little at a loss with what to do with them, but… He likes them. And he likes writing for them. If his book was to ever be in any hands, he's glad it's the small ones that are just discovering the wonders of reading for the first time.

The chapter books are on shelves that line the wall, and Chris realizes he's not exactly sure where to _look_ for his book. It would be in chapter books, right? Under Colfer… And that, in and of itself, is a strange feeling. Chris loves bookstores, and libraries, and has spent a large portion of his life inside of them, running fingers over the bindings of books, fingertips brushing over last names.

Now, his last name is up there, too.

Before he can make his way there, though, he notices the signs on one of the shorter shelves— _New in Children's Fiction_ , it reads, and right there, smack-dab in the middle of the second shelf, is his book. It's face out, the cover of it bright and fitting among all the other children's books, familiar to him in a way it is to no one else in the world, and his breath rushes out of him. He thinks he might _actually_ cry this time.

"Are you finding everything okay?"

Chris closes his eyes. He knows that these people are only doing their _jobs_ , but can't they tell he's having a moment?

When he's sure he's not going to look like he's about to start crying in the middle of the children's section, he opens his eyes and turns his head—this time, the employee is male. A very _attractive_ male, with thick-framed glasses, curly hair, and the kind of five o'clock shadow that it would take Chris weeks of not shaving to attain. He's the kind of guy that Chris would expect in one of those indie bookstores, actually.

"Yeah." Chris smiles, small and dismissive. All he really wants is to be left alone with his book. "Thanks."

"No problem," the employee hums.

But he doesn't leave.

Chris shoots him a wary look, but doesn't say anymore. The last girl had just left him alone, but this guy just moves over to a shelf and starts to shuffle the books around. So much for a moment alone with his book.

The point of this whole excursion, though, was to see it, and there it is. The outward-facing pile it's in even looks a little shallow, like the first one had been picked up and taken away. Maybe it had even been taken home, and that thought alone makes hope and happiness and an overwhelming _warmth_ bleed through Chris's chest.

And, despite having several copies already, there's something… _Real_ about going out, picking his book up off a shelf, and paying for it.

"That's a good choice," the employee guy says as Chris pulls his own book from the shelf, and he nearly drops it in surprise. Chris turns to stare at him—his name tag reads _DARREN!_ —with disbelieving eyes.

"Is it?" He asks, his voice quiet, and the guy—Darren—grins, standing up straight.

"Yeah. I liked it."

And Chris is pretty sure his heart stops. Because it's one thing to imagine people reading his book, but to actually talk to someone who has?

He's not prepared for this. He's suddenly feeling very light-headed, probably from all the not-breathing he's been doing.

"You read it?" Chris breathes, not sure he can believe it. After all, this is a full-grown man, probably around Chris's age or older (he certainly looks older, but then again, Chris looks a lot younger than he is, so he tries not to base age on appearance alone). Even if he does work in a bookstore, why would he be reading a children's novel? And one by a completely unknown author, at that?

"Yeah. I try to read all the new releases, if I can." Darren leans in closer like he has a secret (and Chris realizes that it's strange to know someone else's name when they have no idea what your own is). "It makes me a better salesman."

Chris smiles a little bit at that.

"I'm sure it does. So… You read _every_ new release?" Chris can't even fathom that. How many books come out a week? A month? He can't imagine spending so much of his time reading.

"Oh, fuck no," Darren is quick to say, and then looks a little ashamed for cursing—he glances around, apparently to see if there are any innocent ears that he just soiled, and then shrugs. "Just the children's ones. This is my department so…" He gives another shrug, this time like he's trying to appear modest while also insinuating that he's read every book on the shelf.

Including Chris's.

And that might be a part of his job, but still… He'd said it was _good_ , and that he'd _liked_ it. That might also be a part of his job, but… Chris is going to pretend the sentiment is sincere.

Chris isn't silent, holding his own book and running his fingers over the slightly embossed font of his own name. Apparently, Darren doesn't take silence as a dismissal, though.

"It's a new author," Darren goes on to say, and he's stepping closer. "A younger guy who's apparently been working on this story since he was a kid. It's about these two twins who sort of… Fall into this fairy tale world," Darren continues, and Chris has to just stare at the book, not able to control what his face looks like as he listens to someone he's never met describe his own story. "I think that's one of the reasons I like it so much. You read so many fairy tale retellings, you know? But this guy just… Did something totally different with it. It's fantastic."

Chris bites down on his lip, hard. Holy shit, he's absolutely going to cry. He hugs the book close to his chest, blinks a few times, swallows to make sure his voice doesn't come out at some embarrassingly high pitch, and then sends a small smile to Darren.

"Thanks…" Chris pauses, as if he's just now reading Darren's name tag for the first time.

"Darren," he interjects, as if realizing the direction that Chris was going in. "And no problem. It's kind of my job." Darren grins, and shrugs, and Chris just keeps repeating the words he just heard back in his head. He doesn't want to forget them. On the days that are hard, on the days where he wants to throw his laptop across his apartment and give up… Those are the kinds of days he'll need to call those words back up and remember why he's doing this in the first place. "So are you getting it?" Darren's eyebrows raise, and Chris can trick himself to believing that the excitement over the book getting attention rather than the prospect of the sale (or commission—Chris has no idea if this bookstore does commission, though).

"I think I will, yeah." Chris had planned to already, of course, but the way Darren had talked about it… It feels nice, knowing that there's some stranger in the world on his side, trying to get his name and his book out to more people. "And… Thanks. Again." This time, when Chris says it, he's thanking Darren out of more than just polite obligation. Because he's given Chris something that no one in Chris's life currently can.

"Any time." Darren sounds so earnest when he says it that it almost feels like an invitation, but… That's silly. Chris gives a wave and then walks away, fingers touching reverently at the only copy of his own book he'll probably ever pay out of pocket for.

*

A few weeks later, Chris goes back to the same bookstore, this time with a sharpie in his back pocket and no hat. He's not at a place in his career where book signings are a _thing_ —there had been discussions about it, but at the end of the day he's just an unknown name. Maybe if the first book does well, gets enough hype, people will want Chris's signature on the sequel that he's already a good chunk into writing.

That he probably should be working on right at that second, rather than going into a bookstore with the intention to vandalize books. They are his _own_ books, but he's not sure how the employees will be open to what he has to say when he's taking permanent marker to product.

It's another one of those impulsive things that he's just _doing_ , just like when he'd come before to see and buy his own book, but… Well, who knows. Maybe someone will buy his book and in a few years, that signature will actually be worth something.

Chris can only hope, right?

This time, when he enters the children section, he looks around carefully. _Okay_ , so he's not just back to weirdly autograph unpurchased copies of his books—he had kind of been hoping to see that bookseller again. Now, as he scopes out the area, he's not sure if he wants to see Darren or not. Maybe just from a distance, but… If Darren sees him, what exactly is Chris going to say?

_Your words were inspiring to me. You don't even know me, and you believe in me and want me to succeed. I can't stop thinking about it, or the fact that I want to thank you. Maybe with dinner?_

Chris almost laughs. _Yeah_ , that'll happen.

But Chris doesn't see Darren anywhere, something that causes both relief and sadness. It would have at least been nice to look at him for awhile.

His book is still right where it was the last time. Where last time there was one stack, this time there are two—they're both full, but… Chris is hoping the fact that there are two stacks means they need to have more of them available for buying. It's more water on the seed of hope that's been planted in his heart since a publisher told him _yes_.

"Chris Colfer," a voice says from beside him, and Chris freezes—his eyes widen as he stares at the shelf, and he doesn't dare turn his head. "Grew up in Clovis, California, where he used fairy tales as a means to escape the world around him. His first novel, _The Land of Stories: The Wishing Spell_ , is a result of all the adventures Colfer imagined for himself. He currently resides in Los Angeles, California, with his cat."

Chris's eyebrows furrow for a second, because that sounds an awful lot like that awkward little blurb they put on the back sleeve of the book. That thing that people generally don't read, or look at, that Chris had felt so flustered being asked about that he'd given all of the decisions to someone else.

"The hat and the glasses were a good attempt, but your appearance is a _little_ striking for that. Sunglasses would probably work better."

At this point, Chris is positive he knows who has found him out, but he still turns to confirm that Darren is now standing beside him. He has Chris's book in his hand, open to the back, and turns it around that Chris is face-to-face with the posed and polished picture of him smiling (and it's such a school picture smile, too) from the flap.

"I do like the glasses look, though." Darren's eyes sweep over him, like a buyer appraising merchandise, and Chris has the urge to turn away and cover himself. Or maybe to stand up straighter and preen. He fights both urges.

"So you recognized me." Chris is a little stunned. He's not really the sort of person who gets _recognized_ , at least not in a good sort of way. Recognition in high school… Well, that never really led to any memory that Chris doesn't keep tucked into a padlocked box in the back of his head.

"I thought you looked familiar, couldn't place it for a few days, was selling a book—well, I guess I should say _your_ book, huh?"

"You sold one of my books?" Chris's eyebrows fly up, and Darren just grins at him. Embarrassment floods over Chris's skin and he looks away, shoulders bunching up around his neck.

"I did. And when I was selling it, I saw your picture in the back, and everything just sort of…" Darren pops his tongue against the top of his mouth, "Clicked. I'm glad you came back."

"…you are?" Chris asks, feeling flustered. Darren gives him a disbelieving, almost _judgmental_ , look.

"Uh, yeah. It's not every day I get to meet an author, even having worked in a bookstore three years. Especially not an author whose works I've read and enjoyed."

" _Work_ ," Chris can't help but correct. "Just one." Still, he can't stop how pleased he feels. He isn't exactly used to this sort of attention, or people reacting this way when he meets him. He's not sure it's something he'll ever get used to, and it makes him feel a little uncomfortable the way flattery generally does, but it's still… It's still kind of nice, even if his face feels like it's about to burn his skin off.

"Well, right _now_. Hopefully that won't always be the case…?"

And Chris laughs, once, a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Are you trying to dig for information?" Chris asks in shock, and Darren grins, not even trying to look innocent.

"Is there information to dig up?" Darren continues, and Chris just shakes his head in disbelief. "Nah, it's cool, I get it. Keep us all on the ropes. That's fine. I'll just dig in a different direction." Darren crosses his arms and surveys Chris again, this time like he's more of a puzzle than an object. "I didn't think you'd come back after buying your book."

"O-oh…" Chris stutters, and the kind of blush he's feeling now is completely different from the one before. "About that…"

"Oh, dude, no. You don't need to explain. That's your baby. Of course you want to see it in action." Darren flaps his hand dismissively, and Chris just sort of… Gapes at him, like Darren is some kind of alien creature that Chris has never had the opportunity to interact with before. "But you already bought it. Why did you come back?" Darren's grin turns a little sly. "It wasn't to see me, was it?" He bats his eyes, obviously joking, but Chris… Doesn't deny it.

He should deny it. He really should. Even if that was kind of the reason he came back to this store in particular. Darren doesn't have to _know_ that. Of course, the longer Chris doesn't say anything, the more likely it is that Darren will—

"…shit, _was_ it to see me?" Darren seems delighted at the prospect. Chris rakes his brain for a way out of this, because he's felt enough embarrassment for one day, thank you very much.

Without thinking too hard about it, he pulls the sharpie out of his back copy, showing it to Darren without really explaining why he's brandishing it like a weapon or why he has it in the first place.

"I… Wanted to, um… Sign. A few," he mumbles. The plan hadn't really been to tell anyone about that, and Darren _works_ there, there's no way he's going to let Chris go through with it now.

"Oh my god, that's _awesome_." Darren rocks on his feet, bouncing a few times like a little kid. "You, yes, totally do that, and—wait, can you like, can you wait here? I totally have my copy in the back, I'd love to have you sign it, that would be—seriously, wait right here, okay?" Darren puts up his hands like he's telling a dog to _stay_ , which would be more offensive, maybe, if Darren didn't nearly trip over his feet as he walk-runs toward the escalators. Chris watches him go, still clutching the sharpie in his hand and unsure of what to make of the exchange that just happened.

…did Chris just experience what it's like to have a _fan?_ When did his life get this surreal?

By the time Darren is rushing back, Chris has carefully signed his name inside all eight copies on display.

"Good, you're still here," Darren says, and then holds out his book to Chris. This… This is something different. It's one thing to know that Darren read the book, but here is the very copy he read—the corners are a little worn from travel and from being read, and Chris wonders if some of the pages are even dog-eared. Holding a copy of his book that someone other than himself owns, someone that bought it of their own volition and not because their friends or family is… Well, Chris isn't sure how to describe it, but it's certainly overwhelming.

"If you want to include any sort of message or anything, that… That would be cool, you know," Darren babbles, and Chris can't help but smile as he opens the book. He tilts it so that Darren can't see what he's writing before pressing the sharpie to the inside cover. "Also… You know, if you _had_ come here just to see me, that… That would've been cool, too." Chris blinks at the book before looking over it at Darren, and Darren holds his gaze—completely unashamed and unembarrassed by what he just said.

Chris flushes as he writes, pen pausing against the page and creating a random spot that he quickly turns into a smiley face. Then, in a rush of impulsiveness, he continues writing.

"Okay." Chris snaps the book shut and hands it back, and, to Darren's credit, he doesn't look at it immediately. "There you go, I… Um, I've never really done that before, so."

"So I just got your first autograph?"

"…technically, I signed those ones, first…" Chris mumbles, pointing to the shelves, and figures there's no need to mention the copies his friends and family members had him sign for them.

"Yeah, but those are just your signature… There's more than just your signature in here." Darren holds up the book.

"Oh yeah?" Chris raises an eyebrow.

"It only takes a few seconds to sign your name, and that was more than just a few seconds. Face it, Mr. Colfer. This moment between us was special."

And Chris doesn't point out that the first time he ever spoke to Darren, the things that Darren said to him, are special, too. But Darren isn't wrong—he's the first "fan" to ask Chris for an autograph, even if it's still strange for Chris to even imagine _having_ fans in the first place.

"Chris," he says, suddenly, and Darren blinks at him. "Chris is… Fine." Oh god, Chris is not good with this. When he imagined talking to people who knew about his work, those people were generally shorter and younger and had a minimal vocabulary that comes from being in grade school. They weren't people like _Darren_ , who Chris just wants to reach out and kind of… Touch, for a little bit.

"Chris, then…" And Darren grins again. He smiles a lot, but not in that way that makes it feel phony or creepy. It's just… Nice.

Shifting nervously on his feet, Chris sticks the sharpie back into his pocket before rocking back a step.

"Well, I… I guess I should be going. Um, thank you for letting me…" Chris gestures to the shelf, and Darren waves it off like it's nothing.

"Thank you for doing it. And for signing mine. _And_ for coming back at all. Really."

"…any time," Chris murmurs, a small smile of his own, and Darren seems to recognize the reference, because his own smile gets a little bigger. Again, Chris gives a little wave, and then walks away.

He's not even to the door leading out of the building when his phone starts to vibrate. Chris stops, pulling it out, and staring at the unknown number—there's no way.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

It's Darren, and Chris can't stop from turning around, expecting Darren to be standing by the railing on the upper level and looking down at him, effectively turning this entire situation into a romcom. But Darren isn't there—Chris can't see signs of him anywhere.

"Aren't you working?" Chris can't help but ask, even as he's smiling, and he hears a hum down the line.

"Yeah. I just wanted you to know that I got your message."

And as nerve-wrecking as it had been to leave it, Chris is suddenly very glad that he did. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Read and Reblog on Tumblr](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/83043999664/autographed-copy)


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